I began this book with no plan, no structure, no writing experience, and no sense of my skill or lack thereof. In every imaginable endeavor this predicament might have resulted in disappointment or worse. But in hindsight I see that an empty space was the most fortunate beginning as I was free of expectations, free of confines, an open field ready for sun, rain, darkness, and time to transform and to grow. And so, it was here that I began, planting words and waiting to see what would take. What came out was something winding. If sentences and paragraphs were trees, we’d see their beginnings, roots twisting through red clay soil rising upward into burls, knots, and limbs before leaves and seeds fall, returning to dirt, journeying homeward.
In this structure the book abandons the traditional form of a cooking or baking book. Recipes are not grouped by dough type or method. Rather, they grow into the manuscript organically, introduced in the same order in which they made their way to my life, my hands, and eventually, my own mixing bowl and oven.
Some of you may wish to bypass the narrative sections; I understand. Dinner needs to be on the table in thirty minutes and words don’t fill bellies. For ease we’ve listed linked recipes for quick reference. Also, you may find yourself directed to the Method section of the book for specific skills and technical content; this mostly relates to the bread recipes, which tend to be more involved.
The details of this story are mine but they are not unique. We all have tales, lives with beginnings, heartache, happiness, movement, and endings. I hope that you find yourself inspired to bake your own narrative, to connect the lines of your experience to your own environment, your family, and those around you, for baking and giving are truly acts of love.
Happy baking,
Martin
